


as long as i’m here (no one can hurt you)

by seekrest



Series: IronDad Bingo [7]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, References to Depression, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Peter was running.He loved to run - now, after the bite. It used to be the bane of existence, the physical ache of it burning in his lungs - the sharp pain in his side and the way his chest heaved if he pushed too hard too fast.Before the bite that changed his life, asthma had stopped him. He bruised easily, always falling over himself. Peter was used to being called names but clumsy was one that he never got offended by.He was - clumsy. Fumbling through life as best he could. Of all the changes that had happened in Peter’s young life, there had been one thing that was reliable.Peter Parker couldn’t run.But then he got bit.And that changed too.—IronDad Bingo: Depression
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: IronDad Bingo [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652680
Comments: 26
Kudos: 227





	as long as i’m here (no one can hurt you)

Peter was running. 

He loved to run - now, after the bite. It used to be the bane of existence, the physical ache of it burning in his lungs - the sharp pain in his side and the way his chest heaved if he pushed too hard too fast.

Before the bite that changed his life, asthma had stopped him. He bruised easily, always falling over himself. Peter was used to being called names but clumsy was one that he never got offended by.

He was - clumsy. Fumbling through life as best he could. Of all the changes that had happened in Peter’s young life, there had been one thing that was reliable.

Peter Parker couldn’t run. 

But then he got bit. 

And that changed too.

* * *

Peter’s arms pumped up and down, his legs moving faster and faster as he ran around the track. 

Peter could hear the buzzing of insects a mile away, could hear Colonel Rhodes’ snoring in his room on the third door from the right on the fourth floor. He could hear someone making coffee, probably Tony - listening for Pepper’s soft humming, a calming sound that reminded him so much of May.

The world around him whizzed by, Peter’s mind wandering to what she was doing - the question of whether he would be able to hear her from the Compound. 

Ned had asked him once, along with thirty other questions - about how far his powers could go. Peter didn’t have a good answer for him, not when the thought of subjecting himself to an even greater sensory overload sounded as appealing as eating some of May’s date loaf.

But as the wind rushed by his ears, his legs carrying him faster and faster around the track - Peter let his mind focus further - to hear beyond his immediate surroundings.

He heard a lake, animals skittering about. He could hear cars on the highway, a muddle of radio stations as a family argued about whose turn it was to pick a channel. 

Peter wanted to close his eyes, focus more but the track was in front of him - propelling him further. It was too much, focusing on more than one thing but Peter had the idea now and he couldn’t stop it - the energy and adrenaline from running as fast as he could for thirty minutes straight coursing through his veins like electricity.

It made Peter wonder if this is what it was like to be Thor, to feel pure, unadulterated power in your lungs, in your bloodstream - as if you were invincible. It was nauseating, almost intoxicating.

The thought of that made Peter skid to a stop, breathing heavy even if he knew he didn’t really need to. He wasn’t even tired yet, another thought wondering how much further he would have to go before he felt it.

The sounds from the highway were fading now, a low ringing in his ears as he focused back on himself and the compound. 

The sounds. His lungs. Running. 

Peter didn’t know his limits. 

But it hit him that he wanted to.

* * *

  
“You okay?”

Peter’s head snapped up, meeting Michelle’s studied gaze. He knew her well enough by now to see the concern in her eyes, a flash of something that makes Peter’s stomach flutter.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, long patrol yesterday.”

Michelle narrows her eyes like she doesn’t believe him, sitting down across from him at the table. 

The cafeteria was loud - like it always was - but Peter’s senses were suddenly focused on Michelle. The hint of lavender from the lotion he knew she used, the soft and steady rhythm of her heartbeat across the table, the way her eyes seemed to search all over him and pierce right through him all at once.

They’d been dating for a little under a month and Peter still hadn’t gotten over the butterflies he felt anytime she was across from him. 

“You’re a bad liar. You should work on that.” Michelle replied, Peter watching as she sighed and brought her book bag down on the table.

“I’m not lying. Really, MJ. I’m fine.”

She reached for a massive book, laying it down in front of her before shoving her bag to the side before looking back up at him.

“Fine is a metaphorical state of being. Anyone who says they’re fine is trying to distract away from whatever it is they’re actually feeling.”

Michelle leans in, Peter’s heart pounding a little quicker even if he knew that she hated PDA - a curl falling over her face as she said, “Something’s going on with you. I don’t know what.”

She leaned back, opening the book and moving towards where her bookmark is. 

“When you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Peter just blinked at her, at a loss for what she was meaning. 

He _was_ fine - he knew he had a habit of hiding things from people, got lectured about holding back injuries from May and Tony all the time. 

But this wasn’t the case then. Nothing was wrong. He was tired, a little restless maybe but nothing else. 

Peter says nothing, waiting to see if Michelle was going to say anything further.

She doesn’t, looking as if she’s perfectly content to read in silence across from him. 

But there’s something in the way her eyes are looking down at the book, Peter hearing Ned walk up to them from the lunch line that signals that she isn’t reading a thing - almost waiting to see if he would open up about something. 

Peter can’t figure out what it could be, Ned’s presence focusing his attention elsewhere. But as Ned starts to chatter about the cafeteria’s move from French fries to onion rings, Peter can’t help but feel that even if Michelle’s eyes were focused on the book that she was really staring at him.

* * *

Peter was running. 

He could feel it again, energy in motion - thinking back to his physics class from sophomore year.

Newton’s Law states than an object in motion will stay in motion until an external force acts upon it. 

Peter knew this - from school and from life, seeing how his life shifted and changed over and over again.

His parents.

Ben.

The bite.

Peter was running, faster and faster - so much he couldn’t think, so fast that the world around him was a blur. 

Peter was running. Pushing himself, wanting to see how fast he could go. He didn’t get to run in the city, the unimaginable high that he got from flinging himself off the highest buildings in New York, the exhilaration of the wind rushing over him until he finally sent a hand out - grasping onto a web and flying upwards again.

It was invigorating, an irreplaceable feeling that Peter didn’t even have words for.

Yet running - moving his legs faster and faster - was something that he couldn’t do as Spider-Man, had never had the chance to do as Peter Parker. 

He wasn’t an athlete and didn’t want to be. But running in the early morning on his weekend visits at the compound - the oxygen flowing through his bloodstream as his muscles contracted, pushing himself further and further as everything else on the track but his breathing faded away - was another feeling that made Peter feel as if he’d never be able to replicate it. 

Peter was running. 

He never wanted to stop.

* * *

“You alright sweetheart?”

Peter looked to May, seeing the concern etched all over her face - her eyes shifting from his to his hands, Peter realizing he was tapping them against the table.

He stops, smiling as he says, “Yeah, May. I’m fine, promise.”

She tilts her head, the line on her forehead feeling as she looks over him. It was the same look that Michelle had given him, one that Ned now shared anytime Peter daydreamed a little too long. 

It was almost frustrating, how everyone stared at him.

He was fine. Peter didn’t know how else to explain it to them.

“Did something happen on patrol?”

“No, I’m— why does everyone think something is wrong?” Peter snaps. 

May pauses, Peter’s hands tapping on the table again. He exhales out of his mouth, shaking his head.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m… you’re just like, the third person to ask me what’s wrong when nothing is.”

May gets a look on her face that Peter can’t place, his fingers tapping on the table and his leg starting to shake. It looked almost resigned but worried, Peter suddenly feeling like he was going to jump out of his skin.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go out tonight.” May said cautiously, almost as if anticipating the argument brewing behind his eyes as he looked down to the table. 

“May--”

“Just for tonight, Pete. Just give yourself time to rest. To relax. You’ve been going at it so…” She trailed off, Peter feeling his shoulders sag at the worry in her voice. 

He didn’t want to worry her - he didn’t want to worry anyone. 

But it was a feeling in his lungs, in his veins - in his soul.

He had to push himself, he had to know how far he could go.

“I just want to be sure you’re taking care of yourself too, sweetheart. Just as much as you’re taking care of everyone else.” 

Peter brings his gaze up to meet her, seeing the tension in her face. He lets out a sigh, nodding his head.

“I know, I am. I will.” 

She waits, Peter putting on a smile. 

“I think there’s a new season of _Bake Off_ on Netflix. Maybe we could watch that?”

May smiles, bringing a hand across the table - Peter recognizing that she can see through how calm he was trying to be but letting him anyway, squeezing his hand as she took his into hers. 

“Sounds great, Pete. I’ll put it on after the dishes, alright?”

Peter nodded, squeezing her hand in return before they returned to their food - Peter feeling the tension in his stomach only deepen.

It’s something he feels again later that night - keeping his eyes open even as the sounds of the city around him almost scream at him, wanting to close his eyes but knowing it would give no relief - only focusing everything else around him even more.

His heart was racing, his leg twitching - shaking relentlessly. 

He could hear everything in the building. Everything in his borough. Peter thinks he could even hear all the way down to Manhattan, all the noise swirling together louder and louder. 

Peter knows he could wake up May. Call Michelle. Wake Tony.

But all Peter wanted to do was run. 

* * *

His lungs were on fire. 

It was a burning sensation, new in a way that Peter hadn’t felt before - not in years, not since before the bite. 

He hadn’t slept - feigning exhaustion with Tony as soon as it became acceptable, settling down into his bed with his clothes on - staring up at the ceiling as his whole body seemingly vibrated with… something.

Peter knew something was wrong - but what, he couldn’t name it. 

It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, this feeling of wanting to do more - to push, to keep going. 

A thought nagged at him in the back of his mind, the knowledge that he should just talk to someone - _anyone_ \- that it would make the electricity in his veins feel a little less sharper, a little less dangerous. 

When everyone had gone to sleep - Peter never being more thankful that these weekends at the Compound had Pepper there, that she somehow convinced Tony to go to bed at a reasonable time - he quietly crept out of bed, moving through the hallways until he found himself at the track. 

And then he started running.

He hadn’t stopped. For hours, going and going - pushing himself, just to see how far he could go until…

Peter didn’t even know what he was looking for, couldn’t even place what he was running _from_ \- even if the recognition that he was running from _something_ was right there on the tip of his tongue. 

The monotony of the track - moving over and over again in a circle that blended together until it was a haze to him, did nothing to calm the growing storm in his heart - Peter feeling his chest starting to heave as his lungs started to work in overtime.

The soft light of the moon had long faded, giving way to an inky black and blue - almost ethereal as the colors of the world around him shifted as the sun began to rise. 

The muscles in his legs actually started to ache now, his feet pounding the pavement feeling like knives the harder he moved - but Peter was relentless, so close to the edge - so close to finding his breaking point.

Peter felt it in his chest, in his lungs - the hammering of his heart in his ears as he continued to run, with less and less grace as he kept moving forward. His eyes started to water - from exhaustion or from something darker and much heavier, he didn’t know. 

Then light illuminated the room he was in, artificial, overhead light and Peter almost tripped - skidding to a stop as he struggled to breathe, looking to who had turned them on - feeling inexplicably like he had gotten caught. 

He both is and isn’t surprised to see Tony in the entryway, his eyes dark and hand braced against the entrance of the workout room. 

Peter pants, hands on his knees as he stares at him - the only sound in the room the wheezing coming from his mouth. 

He stares at Tony, waiting - knowing something was coming even if he couldn’t place what. Tony seems to consider it himself, Peter watching as the gears in his head seem to shift behind his eyes. 

Then Tony seems to decide, straightening up as he walks towards him - Peter’s heart still pounding in his chest, the sound of it in his ears drowning out the noise of the forest outside.

“You know, I tried taking up yoga once.”

Whatever Peter had anticipated, _that_ hadn’t been it - huffing in confusion as he tried to catch his breath. Tony seemed to take it as a response, continuing.

“It didn’t take. Too quiet, fell asleep half the time. Though I hear hot yoga’s all the rage now.” Tony snapped his fingers together, pointing to Peter. 

“Drinking, but you knew that. Everyone knows it. Don’t drink kid, not till you’re legal anyway. Trust me,” Tony walked forward, eyes still steadily on Peter as he closed the distance between them, “Habit’s a bitch to break.”

Peter tried to swallow down the ache in his chest, standing upright as Tony walked even closer. 

“Mr. Stark--”

“You know what the real kicker was though? The thing that made me realize that… something wasn’t right?” 

Peter waits, a twitch in his fingers - in his legs - everything within him begging to keep running, to keep going - to push forward. But there was something in Tony’s eyes that compelled him to stand still, to listen. 

“It was coffee. Couldn’t get enough of it. There was a whole thing when I had to have this _exact_ roast, to the point where I was… obsessed.” Tony was right in front of him now, Peter’s shoulders still shaking from as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I couldn’t function without it. I had to have this one, _specific_ blend. People chalked it up to,” Tony waved his hands around, “some kind of billionaire eccentricity but you know who caught on?” 

Peter knows the answer but doesn’t say it, not trusting the way his chest was heaving as his eyes started to water.

“Pepper. We weren’t together then, she was my assistant. But she knew, something was going on. Something I couldn’t articulate. That the coffee was more than just coffee.”

Peter lets out a sharp exhale, the tears stinging in his eyes as Tony brings a hand to his shoulder - keeping his gaze firmly on Tony as he grits his teeth. 

“The running is more than just the running, isn’t it?” 

Peter blinks a few times. “You--you knew?”

Tony smiles though it looks more like a grimace. “Kid, you think anything happens on this Compound that I don’t know about?”

Peter just stares back at him, at a loss for what to say. Tony presses forward, tightening the grip on his shoulder. 

“I figured you would come to me, when you were ready. Whatever it was, we could figure it out. But then talking with May... “ Tony sighed. “We’re worried about you, kid.”

“I’m _fine._ ” Peter’s voice cracks, though whether that’s from exhaustion or from the way it suddenly felt like something was lodged in his throat he didn’t know. “I’m okay, I’m… I don’t--”

“Pete.”

Peter’s jaw trembles, trying and failing to blink back the tears as one fell down his cheek. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t… I can’t explain it.”

Tony applies slight pressure to his shoulder, an acknowledgement to take his time - even as Peter’s own mind races in trying to give words to the thing he’d been feeling for far longer than he could ever admit.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it began, thinking back to if there had ever been a time when he’d ever really known any semblance of peace. 

His parents. 

Ben.

The bite. 

Any one thing would be enough to set someone over the edge, but it all piled on - over and over again. It was something he staved down, pushed away the more and more his life changed - for the good, for the _better_.

Peter wasn’t the weak asthmatic he’d been his whole life. He was strong, had impossibly quick reflexes - saved lives.

He had people who loved him - May, Tony, MJ, Ned.

He was _Spider-Man_. 

And yet it didn’t feel like enough. _He_ wasn’t enough.

He had to push himself, he had to see how far he could go - test the limits of who he could be to make sure that there was no one or nothing in his life that he would ever lose again. 

It’s a darkness in his soul that had fueled him, the guilt and frustration that he’d felt for years propelling him forward - just like the pain coursing through him like electricity had motivated him for the past few weeks, rushing towards a release he hadn’t even realized he’d been searching for. 

Peter lets out a sob, swallowing it back even as Tony’s other hand comes up to his other shoulder - forcing him to look at him.

“Pete.”

“I think… I’m. It’s too much. It’s… it’s just too much, you know?” Peter rambles, seeing the way Tony’s eyes water as he nods his head.

“Yeah, kid. It’s a lot.”

Peter lets out a sharp laugh. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.” 

Tony smiles, bringing his hands to his face. “It’s _life_ , Pete. _Life_ is a lot. And it’s okay to feel as if it’s too much sometimes.”

Peter keeps nodding his head, the tears streaming down his cheeks feeling hot as he balled his hands into fists. 

“I just wanted to see how far I could go.”

Tony’s thumb wipes away some of his tears, Peter’s vision blurring more at the action.

“Don’t go so far that we can’t keep up, kid. We’re here alright? We’re here for you.”

A dam within Peter bursts, closing his eyes as he brings his head forward - Tony bringing him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him in a fierce hug. Peter brings his hands around him, holding as tight as he will allow himself - painfully aware that if he wasn’t careful, if he wasn’t in control - he could snap him in half. 

As Tony just held him tighter, Peter burrowing his head into his chest - he thinks of the irony of this moment, of wanting so badly to let go yet knowing that he never could. 

He just wanted to run, to keep going - to never _stop_ \- to feel as if he had some semblance of control in a life that Peter thinks he’s never had. 

But Peter can’t bring himself to speak - not now, not when he couldn’t make sense of what he was feeling any more than he could make sense of his surroundings when he ran - of the noises and sounds that kept him awake at night. 

Peter let Tony hug him, closing his eyes as he thought of Michelle’s quiet concern - of May’s tense plea. 

Something was wrong, something had been wrong… for a very long time. 

But Peter wasn’t alone - feeling Tony’s arms around him and hearing his hearbeat through his chest, the exhaustion of the night settling over him. 

Peter didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling. 

But he knew he was tired of running. 

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks familiar, it’s cause it is! Reposting IronDad bingos for anyone who wants to bookmark them separately. 
> 
> You are never alone. There is never shame in asking for help. 
> 
> The world is better with you here.
> 
> <3


End file.
